


just a little keychain

by nochanchu



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Romance, very loosely that enemies/fwb stuff tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24193666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nochanchu/pseuds/nochanchu
Summary: loosely based on the prompt: we’ve been sleeping together on and off for almost a year and i know it’s angry hate sex but i got you a little gift because it reminded me of you
Relationships: Park Chanyeol/Reader, Park Chanyeol/You
Kudos: 19





	just a little keychain

Somehow a ten-week arrangement had made it to nearly fifty-two. You don’t know how exactly, or what compelled such a thing with Park Chanyeol, the last person on Earth you expected to do any of this with, but it just happened. It should’ve ended after the hellish Fall quarter. Stayed there. Never to be brought up or re-enacted, because never talking (if you could help it) and never interacting (not that either of you helped this) was how it was for you two.

To keep this rather short and sweet: you and Chanyeol simply hated one another. Detested one another for no reason other than the fact that this is how it was for you two. Truthfully, it wasn’t all that clear in your head anymore. Somewhere along your academic careers, you both had shared more than a handful of classes with one another, found reasons to butt heads, and it remained as such even into graduate school, a place where you both had been so sure you would escape from one another once and for all. And maybe it would’ve been like that, if it hadn’t been for a poetry seminar and its assigned final project on Terrance Hayes’s book of sonnets and multi-faceted assassins bringing you two together again. More than you probably would have conceived, really. 

The whole thing is still strange in its own right. Heavy chests were no longer breathless from shouting. Mutters were soft words meant to stick. And, it was the first time that made graduate school bearable. Neither of you had to think about the ten books you needed to scan that week or produce the findings for your seminars; you could just share this moment, even in all its pent up frustration, because it was that simple to do. 

The first time had been heat of the moment; a consensual coming together that suggested maybe you both could work together for the quarter. It made working together bearable. The time passed quicker. The work was productive. And it didn’t stop there. It kept up a consistent tempo. A weekly ordeal. Undiluted by other concerns or romantic commitments, because who had time for that? 

It was so much simpler to just spare an hour for that than try and figure out day-long dates that probably would have ended in a fight anyway. Something you and Chanyeol share; a view of the frivolity and near pointlessness to relationship amidst such a tumultuous time like this. 

“What?” he asks, stopping at the doorway. His hair is somewhat damp and now in a different shirt from when he came in. One of many that he’s left behind at your place. “You miss me?” 

Of course, he remains a nuisance. Sometimes it feels like he goes out of his way to grate on your nerves whenever you’re in the vicinity. A little snide comment here, a smug smile there, and an all-knowing smile that says you’ll be eating your comebacks later. (Not that you would ever feed his ego by showing it.)

You snort, wanting nothing more than to roll your eyes at him. 

Just as much as you’re certain you can’t stand Chanyeol, you are undoubtedly attracted to the bastard. Maybe that’s why you feel so strongly about him. His confidence so easily teeters on arrogance, though it never hits a point where you might completely cut him out; his quick tongue, both scathing and hilarious depending on the victim, never fails to get your lips quivering into a smile, because it’s never that harsh with you; and most of all, his place in the back of your mind even when you aren’t intentionally thinking about him. It’s like he’s there. Just because. 

“Seriously, what’s up?” He takes a seat beside you on the bed, following your gaze.

You’re looking at your desk, wondering if you should just give him the damn thing. 

“Hang on,” you say, getting up and opening the drawer. Inside contains a few pens, some sticky notes, and a miniature guitar keychain that resembles the one on Chanyeol’s forearm. 

It’s ridiculous how compelled you felt to buy it, and you know you shouldn’t have done it. But you steel your nerves long enough to grab the keychain and turn to him. 

“Here,” you put the gift in his hand, “I know, I know. It’s stupid and probably weird, but I got it because it reminded me of you.” 

He doesn’t say anything right away, though his eyes have gone wide. You swear you see the corner of his lips twitching, as if he may be sparing your feelings with a smile.

You feel like your chest might burst, because you never pondered how he might react. You just did it. It felt right in the moment. 

He finally says, “thank you.” 

You run a hand through your hair and shrug. “It’s just a little keychain.” 

He snorts then. That prompts you to look at him and meet his eyes. 

He takes one of your hands in his and tells you, “I love it. It’s not just a little keychain. I’m happy you bought it.” 

“Well,” you cough a little. “I’m glad.” 

It takes a second for him to react, but when he does, he throws his head back and laughs. It doesn’t help the rush of feelings fluttering in your stomach or the erratic beating in your chest either. 

“What?” 

You want to look away, preferably at the calendar to your right, really anywhere away from his goddamn doe-like brown eyes. The same ones that used to piss you off a couple years ago. Probably even a year ago had someone asked you about him. Back then, you wouldn’t have considered this ever happening, being in your bedroom with him, holding his hand, getting him a gift because it made you think of him, none of it. Yet here you were. 

“You’re cute,” he says, smiling. “I like that about you, you know.” 

“I—wait, is this happening?” 

The two of you laugh. 

“This is so damn strange,” you tell him after a while. You have since laid on the bed beside him, both of you turned on both your sides to face each other. “I don’t know how this worked out so well, but I’m pretty happy it did. You’re not so bad.”

“Thanks, I compliment you and I get I’m not so bad in response.” 

“Better than you’re annoying ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent of the time.” 

“Well, true,” he nods, letting you win that one, “What made you buy this for me anyway?” 

You shrug. “It felt right.” It strikes you then. Maybe that’s why you two kept this whole thing going on too. “Like us. What we’ve been doing for a year, I mean.” 

“Still think relationships are pointless and dumb?” he asks then. 

“I don’t know. We’ve made it through alright even though we aren’t together, and we argue all the damn time over pointless shit. But to be fair, it’s funny seeing your nostrils flare a little. And you get really flustered.”

“So do you!” he points out, looking a little pink in the cheeks. “But yeah, I agree.” 

“So, what now? We get  _ together  _ together?” 

“Do you want to?” 

“It feels right to me,” you answer, “What about you?” 

He looks at you, stops halfway in his attempt to glance back at the keychain on the bedside table, and then nods. “Yeah, why not? Fuck it.” 

He leans over to peck your lips, which you reciprocate; despite its brevity, the kiss reminds you why you bought the gift in the first place. 

“Fuck it.” 


End file.
